


The Code Of Chaos

by MehLordOfMeh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Delirium(oc), Exodus(oc), Gen, Original Character(s), Voltbreaker(oc)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MehLordOfMeh/pseuds/MehLordOfMeh
Summary: They had received a distress beacon, he had been informed, which is why they were changing course. When questioned on why, exactly, it was so important, he had been told it was a Cybertronian distress beacon- and an old one at that.~This is an origin story for an OC I am wanting to flesh out. I'm trying to make a loose concept of them into an actually believable character, with depth and personality. On top of that, this is a passion project to step more outside my comfort zone and write something that isn't smut, that has real substance and can leave a true impact on others.This story can and will contain triggering content such as torture and forced isolation, chapters will have notes with a Content Warning at the top so you are advised to read those warnings and judge for yourself if you wish to proceed. Comments are much appreciatedThank you and I hope you enjoy my passion project.
Kudos: 6





	1. Beyond The Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Blood and Gore towards the end, you have been warned

The spaceship was like molten lead. The shape shifted, seemingly at random, taking either an organic form or geometric angles. It was as if the ship itself was only partly in this reality and so was ever-changing and morphing, not one minute passed without it taking on a slightly different form. It was utterly seamless, with no visible means of propulsion and no weaponry. And yet, it sailed the vastness of space with an imposing presence like that of a battleship heading to war.

Inside the ship was a darkness not even the expanse of space could compete with. A murk that drifted and filled the long, empty halls. An ominous, brittle silence filled the corridors of the ship just as completely as the blackness. Even the creaks of the ever-shifting ship were swallowed and muffled by the imposing silence that suffocated all that it could. 

Yet still a single light shined in a glaring rebellion, albeit faintly, by the only window into open space. Curious and hopeful optics stared out into the vast blanket, searching the sparkles of yellows, purples, blues and pinks for something, anything, that would confirm it was not alone. There, the figure sat alone, the only living thing inside the deep halls of the ship. In the past the being had tried to know why and how it came to be, had begged for answers yet silence always surrounded it. The ship, which had been its provider, had and seems will always be, it's only company, did not stop. It continued in its seemingly thoughtless pursuit of something its cargo did not care for.

But now, as the Energon flowed less and less from the walls each day, it sat and conserved what it could. It sat and waited, listless now, staring out into the void around it- hoping to be found. For this being, who lived so long off the blessed meals provided by the entity around them, alone without seeing another living creature- it did not know why it suddenly wished to be found. Perhaps it was the fear of the hollow void deep inside itself growing so big that it would swallow them whole. Or, perhaps it was the craving of contact, given to them from a whisper of a faded memory; a silent prayer for any small token that they were not alone in the vastness of this reality. That other things lived and thrived among the stars and it needed only to look. 

Suddenly a jerking, a stuttering of the ship that had never happened before. Then weightlessness followed after, lifting the being into the air and where panic had set in a gleeful wonder of flying passed their thoughts. Quickly, however, panic again gripped them in prickles across their plating and they outstretched their trembling servos to find security only to be dropped harshly the next moment. A strangled cry of surprise leaves them, a garbled static sound, frame curling in on themselves as a sudden feeling of falling entraps them. 

_Crashing_. They do not know how they know the word to describe the feeling, only that it dances through their mind trailing a sense of dread. The ship was crashing- their one source of protection, the only thing they had ever known, was crashing. 

Their panicked optics looked out the window to see a brightness so close to the window that for a moment all fear left them. They stared, entranced by the suddenly blinding light that they failed to notice the sudden approach of something solid. When they did, so mesmerized were they that all fear left them. By the time they remembered to fear, the lush planet was already colliding with the ship and they were thrown once again. This time they were thrown against the wall with a sickening snap of metal being forcibly bent and their optics flicker- mouth open in shock yet no sound escapes them before the same blackness they had lived in seemed to swallow them whole.

* * *

They had received a distress beacon, he had been informed, which is why they were changing course. When questioned on why, exactly, it was so important, he had been told it was a Cybertronian distress beacon- and an old one at that. So old, they could barely pick it up in the first place. 

“There is no guarantee that whoever, or whatever, sent out the distress is even still alive.” Ultra Magnus had tried to reason. 

“But we have to try at least.” Rodimus had countered as if he had rehearsed his line. 

Megatron, for his part, had taken that fairly well- at least, he thought he had. However, with the way Rodimus had seemed to bristle, his faceplate scrunching in a displeased way and his plating retracting closer to his frame had spoken volumes for how he most likely came across. He had chosen to remain silent the rest of the cycle on the matter.

He, for one, didn’t see the point. He was not the only one to see the possible trap it could be, Ultra Magnus had surprisingly been the one to back up his concerns. He knew even if the entire ship had agreed it was a bad idea to go check out a mystery signal from possibly eons ago they would still go. He didn’t argue with Rodimus further, admiring the mechs chivalry at the very least. Not that he couldn’t, but simply because he knew it was a lost cause. Arguing would only encourage the would-be Prime to pursue the signal even more and, what had Megatron on edge, was that he would do anything to get to a goal he had set his processor on. 

However, that determination was what had endeared the Prime to him, even though he was incessantly annoying and big-helmed, he held a determination to meet his promises. He honestly would prefer the Mech to pursue his ambitions in the reach of Magnus and his watchful optic and knew to deny the younger Mech would do more harm than good. 

Which is how they ended up gathering at the mouth of the Lost Light, Rodimus giving a long-winded and fully indulgent speech to all the Mech’s which had volunteered to leave with them to explore the planet. He stood to the right of Rodimus, next to a smiling Drift. Ultra Magnus stood to Rodimus’ left, arms crossed and staring hard at the small battalion of Mech’s. Megatron cast a curious optic to the group before them and was silently stunned by such an odd gathering. He could see Ratchet and First Aid in the front of the group.

Ratchet looked beyond annoyed and already done with this mock rescue mission before it even started- he couldn’t blame him, he felt the same way. First Aid looked excited, surprisingly, for the prospect of having to assist in the possible medical attention any bot would need. Just behind them stood Tailgate and Cyclonus, Tailgate practically bouncing in place with an indifferent Cyclonus. Swerve was next to Tailgate, chattering with a politely nodding Rung.

He frowned a bit, confused as to why Rung of all mechs was coming before coming to the conclusion that he would need to help calm anybot that got overly excited, or that he was perhaps dragged here by Swerve. He didn’t, however, see Whirl. He was grateful at that, at least. There were a few other mech’s he didn’t recognize off the top of his helm, but they seemed more for protection than any real purpose. A modest search party for a possible red herring, yet if they did find something- or someone- they would have the means to give any care onsight before bringing them back to the ship. 

He moved with the rest of the group as Rodimus finished up, stepping out of the ship and onto the planet.

* * *

I look out into the sea of grey, of life that had been drained away. Upon what used to be a forest, with trees of yesteryear laid on the ground, fallen in violence long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. A bitterness settles in my spark, I am all too familiar to this type of destruction. 

The soil is soft, damp; yet our pedes come up dry with each step we take deeper into the dead forest. What trees still stand are lifeless sticks of charcoal, and what light litters down from thick overcast of rolling storm clouds illuminates the scorched ground. The heavy smell of burning lingers despite the evidence it had rained hours before and was about to start raining again, a last-ditch effort on the part of the dying planet to give itself some form of refreshment. 

Ahead of us is a trench dug into the soil, bits of metal lay forgotten and embedded into the ground. The path would have been missed all together with how overgrown it seemed to have gotten before everything lost its well to live. Now, however, it is the calling card to where our goal ends. The very air seemed to stagnate, what breeze had graced our frames seemed to fear to venture inward like we are. 

In a matter of minutes, we arrive at the crash site. The ship lay half-buried, looking more like a giant, jagged pod than a ship. A nearly perfect oval, with what looked to be a solitary window on the side we were on. Thick tension filled the space around us as we stared at the desolation of the area, at the viscous fluid that had at one point seemed to drip from the ship and now was a dry stain on the grey metal.

Ratchet had been the first to approach the substance that puddled around the ship, examining it with First Aid shadowing him. I watched him from a distance, seeing the way his faceplate contorted with a dawning realization that it was indeed what he seemed to have thought it was- what we had all thought it was. When he stood with a deep ventilation, servos rubbing the bridge of his helm was when I began to approach. The others had followed suit, practically crowding the ship and the medics. 

“Goals have changed...we should focus our search on finding the distress signal and disabling it.” Ultra Magnus had been the one to break the silence, the somber tone striking a chord in all of us. There would be no one to rescue, only to those to put to rest.

It was good, then, that we hadn’t brought more mechs with us. We split off silently, somber mood carrying a heavy weight as we entered the ship through a large gash in its side. Ultra Magnus accompanied me to the right as Rodimus, Drift and the other bot went forward. Ratchet, First Aid and Rung went to the left with Cyclonus, Tailgate and Swerve staying outside to check the perimeter for any bodies that may have been thrown. 

We were silent as we walked, cautious turning to apprehension as we slowly came to realize that there was no sign of life ever being on this ship. Not even the signs of it being lived in, no common rooms or hubsuits. It was as if the ship had flown itself without a captain or crew. We should have come across someone by now, even if they were offline there should be something. But the unnerving truth was that there, in fact, was no one. 

That is until we reached the end of the last hallway we had turned down. Giant doors which seemed to have been melted from the inside out and gaped open to allow whatever had been held inside out. A dark energy leaked from inside, as if something evil dwelled within. 

“I don’t like this.” Ultra Magnus spoke, vocalizer tense. 

My optics shifted, with some difficulty, to him. His plating was drawn in tight, EM field drawn in even tighter. I couldn’t blame him, the sheer aura that this entire planet radiated had left me with a bitter taste in the back of my intake and a chill in my spark. That chill had now solidified into a chunk of ice that weighted it down in my chassis.

My optics flickered back to the door before I was walking inside forward, spurred on by some unknown force. The room was large, the remnants of an examination room scattered everywhere. However, it didn’t seem like it was a medical wing. A large sphere sat on a pedestal in the far back of the room, a screen just behind it. As I approached the sphere I could see Magnus walking towards the examination table. 

“Restraints...someone was held against their will.” He says flatly, looking away from the table with masked emotions. My own optics flicker from him to the table, even with the aged condition of the ship the stains left behind were still there, a sign of just what happened in this room that twisted my tanks as unwanted memories fluttered through my own processor.

I turn away, unable to stare any longer and look back to the sphere. Peering inside yields no more answers, only questions. It appeared to be a giant spark casing, though the inside was completely bare save for a few scorch marks. My own spark stutters in my chassis, processor moving like molasses as I try to piece together the confusing and horrific situation we find ourselves standing in when static comes over the comlinks. 

“WE NEED BACKUP! WE’VE BEEN ATTACKED BY...SOMETHING! THE BOT WITH US, VOLTBREAKER IS DOWN!” Rodimus’ panicked yelling had Ultra Magnus and I running out of the room. 

“Megatron and I are on our way! Ratchet-” Ultra Magnus was cut off, though he didn’t seem annoyed.

“I heard! I’m getting their location now, everyone regroup!” Ratchet’s voice was calm for the most part, he simply seemed to yell for yelling’s sake. 

As he yelled, however, we were pinged with the location of Rodimus, Drift, and Voltbreaker. We wasted no time after that and yet when we arrived we were the last to get there. Ratchet and First Aid were standing to the front of the group, shielding them from something that lay on the ground. Confusion swept through my processor before my optics caught sight of pink splatters across the floor and an obscene slurping sound. Just under the sound of starving swallows was a deep whisper singing.

* * *

~Previously~

In the light that flows like water into the chamber which would have been the observation room of the ship, a crumbled form lays. Curled in on itself and still as stone, optics dark and spark chamber frighteningly dim. Dried, deep purple stains the imminent area around them, tinting the dull grey body a soft- almost lilac. The gold trims along their helm and chassis have nearly all chipped away, the cold steel underneath covered in a thin layer of rust. The light which shimmers down around them illuminates the leg which lay outstretched has a long fracture down the thigh, wires around the hip joint sticking out like needles.

Then suddenly, their shoulder jerks and optics flicker online. A sweet, savory scent had wafted towards them from the door. Their intake opens just slightly, static barely audible as there is a rush of movement. Six pairs of Pedes circle around them, voices muddled as if they had their audials turned onto their lowest setting. Suddenly, they are being moved. Pain flashes through their leg and a static cry leaves them, optics flashing brightly and trying to focus.

They stare, silently, shell-shocked into blue optics which sit on a white face. Purple and yellow streaks paint their helm and the pattern follows all the way down to the chassis, spreading out onto their wings. They speak, voice deep yet the words hold little meaning to them. A word, which is said with emphasis, is Voltbreaker. He is near the catatonic beings head, leaning forward more to examine the other. The other two mechs bustle around them, one voice- a soothing and calm voice, refers to them as a femme. They don’t know what that means, frowning slightly and this causes the red one to laugh loudly, finally breaking the fog that had been over her audials.

Voltbreaker doesn’t respond to them, instead, turning his attention back to the femme. He gives a smile, revealing a gap between his two frontal most denta. He tilts his helm, seeming unsure of something but not voicing his concerns.

The femme reaches a servo up, pointed tips shakily scraping along his chassis before there is a rush of movement. The femme flings herself at Voltbreaker, mouth open so wide it nearly looks unhinged as large upper and lower fangs slide from hidden compartments. They easily pierce the protective metal of his neck cables, sinking deep. Voltbreaker throws himself back, scrambling to pull her off and only succeeding in ripping out a large portion of his neck.

The red mech races to Voltbreaker, who mumbles his name repeatedly as if saying it could heal him. The red mech yells a new name, Drift, and the mech with the soothing voice responds by helping him pick Voltbreaker up. They run with an arm thrown over each of their shoulders back to the door. Drift yells the red mechs name, yelling at him to call for backup.

Rodimus begins yelling as they exit, leaving the femme where she had been thrown. The femme, for her part, lay in the puddle of fresh energon that Voltbreaker had left behind. Long glossa sliding from between now sharpened denta to lap up the precious life source she had been denied. Her optics shined a toxic, neon orange as she watched them leave.

The femme craned her neck up, changing her posture to that of a predator on the hunt and sniffed the air. Broken pede or not, the hunt was on and though she knew not why these beings had within their bodies that which she craved, it would not dissuade her from feasting. A low sound began in the back of her intake, traveling out of parted jaws and chattering into the empty room. The sound echoed down the hall and practically nipped at the heels of Rodimus, Drift and the bleeding Voltbreaker.


	2. It's Not The Song, It's The Singing

The soft drone of a voice laced with static reverberated down the hall and seemed to dance around the gathered mechs. A tune, soft and lilting, flutters just under the voice like the undertow of a river. It feels as if the music slithers between their plating and makes it home in their helms and chassis, growing louder from within themselves and they are frozen.   
“ ..i'd..like to..know..why you..are all..alone..while I...” Voltbreaker looks happy, a small smile gracing his derma as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. 

The thing that it latched to his neck seems to lovingly drink from his cables, hungry like a newspark. They are a soft lilac and deep auburn, one servo holding the side of Voltbreaker’s helm as the other rests one his shoulder. Horns softly tap Voltbreakers jawline every now and then, making a small clack noise. They are delicately draped over him from behind, as if he reclines into their lap. As they move their derma along the cables, glossa licking up any escaping energon, pronounced fangs glint in the faded light that filters down the hall. 

“...you're unsure..if..I am...a loose end..or a strand…” Optics start to dim, flickering as if trying to hang on to consciousness.

This prompts sudden movement, Ratchet yelling out a string of curses and calling out to Voltbreaker. The yelling does not faze the smaller femme but ignites into action the rest of the mechs. They charge, too afraid to fire any concealed weapons in fear of causing more harm than good. Its the feeling of servos on her that jolts the femme away, giving a started beep and trying to scramble away. The large, black servos hold tight and keep her in place as she is dragged far away from Voltbreaker. Another series of clicks and chirps, wide optics changing back to dim yellow. A whimper, not from Voltbreaker, but the femme as her pede dangles uselessly.

Ratchet hovers over Voltbreaker, while Ultra Magnus and Rodimus stand with their backs to the scene and stare at the femme in Megatrons servos. They exchange looks, yet it's Rung who steps forward to kneel in front of her. He is silent, face unreadable before he visibly softens. 

“It’s alright, calm down now.” His voice is even; low enough to make it difficult to hear over the sound of Ratchet and First Aid as they fight against the clock to save Voltbreaker. 

“Alright? Alright?! Nothing about this is Alright!” Rodimus interjected, throwing his own servos up into the air and looking at Megatron then Magnus to see if they believed the scrap Rung just said.

“I have to agree with Rodimus on this one, Rung.” Magnus cuts in, voice level yet laced with uncertainty. “She attacked an unprovoked a member of our own team.” 

“She doesn’t seem aware..” Megatron mutters, still keeping a strong hold on her as he kneels behind her. “Almost as if..” He trails off yet the sentence is not left unfinished.

“She doesn’t know any better.” It's from behind Rodimus and Magnus that the voice cuts in. Its grim, yet seemed to hold a knowledge that they could do nothing to save Voltbreaker from fading. 

“The way she has communicated...it’s as if she’s a..” Ratchet seems to be unable to finish his sentence for a moment, waving his right servo in the air in a circle before standing and facing the others. “Sparkling, for a lack of a better word.” 

The shock is clear on everyone’s faceplates expect for Rung, who gives a frown and looks back to the femme. He reaches into his subspace, pulling out a small box. He opens it, pulling out a single, pink stick of energon. He holds it out to her, close to her face. She looks at it curiously, before her glossa peeks out and licks the candy. At the familiar yet unfamiliar sweet taste she struggles, small servos making a grabbing motion and attempting to reach the candy. 

It's then that Megatron relishes his hold on her and she grabs the candy from Rung’s hand. She holds it to her face, giving it another lick before opening her mouth and biting down on the candy. Rung gives a soft chuckle, before standing up. 

“She’s hurt and starving.” He points out, optics eyeing her injured leg from behind his glasses. 

Ratchet moves forward some but does not approach her. “I’m not treating her without stasis cuffs on. Sparkling or not, she’s dangerous.” He crosses his arms, frowning down at the small femme as she munches on the stick of energon.

“I always carry some on me just in case I need them.” Ultra Magnus states, optics flickering to Megatron before he reaches into his own subspace and pulls out the cuffs.

Rodimus gives them a scrutinizing look, “They’re a bit..big to go on a Minibot.” He chimed in, crossing his arms over his chassis and frowning at them with pursed lips.

“They shrink. One size fits all.” Ultra Magnus counters easily, approaching Rung before he is stopped. 

“Best I do it.” he says, before adding as he was given strange looks, “I gave her candy, so there is some trust in place that I won’t hurt her.” 

Once a chorus of voices ring out in muttered agreement, he kneels once again. He gives a soft smile as the femme tilts her helm at him, optics wide and curious. He then gently reaches for one of her servos, easily pulling it to himself. The femme seems to marvel at the feeling of something touching her, trying now to move closer to Rung. However, as she reaches her other servo out to him he easily maneuvers both to rest in the half circles of the open cuffs. He then quickly closes it, watching a moment to see the femmes reaction. 

She seems miffed, giving a frustrated beep as she tries to move her arms yet finds them unresponsive. Her optics flicker around her, distressed noises coming from her as her chassis seems to flare with a brilliant light along with her EM field. The light bounces off the walls, skitting down the hall as if having a mind of its own before fading into the blackness of the deeper part of the ship.

Rung rests his servos on her shoulders, gently shushing her. It seems to work, her struggling calms and she clicks at him anxiously. Rung simply smiles at her before standing, looking back to Ratchet. He steps aside, opening his mouth to speak before closing it as the entire hall seems to shutter. 

“What in-” Its Ratchet’s voice, but he cuts himself off with a startled sound as the floor and walls begin to shift. 

“Everyone, Out! Now!” Rodimus yells, bolting down the hall, bending down some to grab Swerve’s servo and practically drag the minibot down the hall with him.

Cyclonus, who had been standing silently with a startled Tailgate, has his servo grabbed by Tailgate who follows after Rodimus and Swerve. Ratchet and Drift have to pull a silent First Aid off of Voltbreaker, First Aid crying out not to leave the body. Ultra Magnus has to help them push First Aid away but then scoops up the corpse which prompts First Aid to finally not fight back against the insistent pulling. Rung stays behind with Megatron as the larger mech has to mech-handle the now in full panicmode femme. 

Rung runs next to Megatron, keeping a servo on the femmes arm as they run to keep her somewhat calm. The rumble turns into a groan which tampers off into an almost word. Cables fall from the ceiling, seeming to have a life of their own as they slither after the mechs who run to escape the haunted ship. 

“It's a mech! The ship is alive!” Its Swerve’s voice, pitched high in fear as he tries to keep from stumbling as he’s pulled behind Rodimus. 

“Thank you for the confirmation, Swerve!” Ratchet shoots back sarcastically, before grunting as he’s roughly grabbed by the arm and pulled to the side in time to have a piece of ceiling just miss falling onto him.

Drift grins, “Maybe we should bicker once we’re safely outside!” He adds, giving his own laugh as he now holds onto Ratchet's arm as they run.

The hallway opens, leading them back to where they had started and the large gash they had entered from.They jump through, just in time as the ship convulses before imploding on itself. They land with a thud, crumbled next to each other as they stare wide-optic at the rumble that used to have some semblance of a ship. Echos still ring through the sky, as if the ship had been chanting.

“Delirium? Is that what it was saying?” Tailgate is the one to speak, servos on his hips as he stares at the wreckage. 

“I don’t know and don’t care. Let’s get out of here.” Rodimus says, eyeing the femme that lay flung over Megatrons large shoulder. 

“You know, you're stupid having her so close to your neck knowing what she can do.” It’s First Aid, voice bitter as he walks to Ultra Magnus. 

The mech reaches out, taking the body of Voltbreaker into his arms. He struggles a moment before Rung moves over to him and grabs the pedes of the deceased bot. Rung gives First Aid a sympathetic look, knowing they had had a close relationship. First Aid pointedly ignores the look and instead seems to glare behind his visor at the femme.

“She’s unconscious. Worked herself up into recharge.” Megatron replies, turning some to show the offline optics of the femme. 

“Well, come on. Not much anyone can do now. Let’s go.” Ratchet says, placing a servo on First Aid’s shoulder and squeezing some before releasing him and walking away. 

Rodimus nods yet doesn’t move. He stares at the ship, “We’re staying.” He suddenly says, voice having a hard edge to it. 

“What?” Ratchet asks, almost spitting out the word. “Someone died and you want to stay longer?” He sounds like he’s accusing Rodimus of something.

“Yes.” He replies, before turning to the others. “We found a weird distress call, come across a living ship and find a femme that acts a lot like a Sparkling? What about that screams normal?” 

“She also acts like some demonic vampire! Oh! And the ship tried to literally crush us as it practically whispered Delirium like it thought we would know what that means!” Swerve yells in a frantic tone, 

“Megatron and I did come across some type of lab before we got Rodimus calls.” Ultra Magnus speaks up, his tone seeming to consider what Rodimus is saying. 

“See?! We need to stay and see if we can’t find any clues in the wreckage. She clearly can’t talk and tell us herself what happened.” Rodimus waves a servo in Megatron’s direction, who looks at the femme in his arms.

“As...foolish as this is..” Megatron begins to say, “I agree with Rodimus. We need to know what happened here and why she seems to like drinking energon from the cables of mechs.” 

“Whatever. Don’t ask for my help.” First Aid grumbles, beginning to walk away with Rung as they towed Voltbreaker back to the ship.


	3. For Reasons Wretched And Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks of memories not of her own and the discovery of new information leads to more questions then answers.

Delirium lays on a medical berth, restrained by cuffs along her wrists and ankles, helm twitching from side to side in her recharge. Multiple tubes and monitoring devices hooked up to her frame, the machines next to the berth beeping every now and then with constantly updating vitals. Her ventilations are uneven, sparkrate rising steadily as the device attached to her helm indicates a spike in processor activity.

_ The nighttime came as a stalking predator, leeching the daylight into pale copies of the once rich sky before falling into darkness. The high peaks that stretched upward towards the sky lay in a haunting reminder that someone could always be hidden, high above him with a scope trained to his helm. The wind whips around them, kicking up rust and dirt and flinging it at his optics.  _

_ He looks from the tall, rigid mountain peak to the two silhouettes of his trine. A yellow flyer with silver racing patterns stands with his servos on his hips, face twisted in disgust as he leers down at him. Next to him stands another flyer with an inverted color scheme of silver with yellow racing patterns. The Silver mech stands nervously but hides it under a facade of disgust, servos held away from his frame as energon drips from his digits. He knelt on the ground, purple frame battered and leaking energon from small gashes along his arms. _

_ “I can’t believe you..after everything they did to us...you would HELP THEM?!” The primarily yellow mech yells, wings hitching up high and spread. _

_ “Sparklock, they were going to kill an innocent mech! Please, the Autobots are the only ones who help the unaffiliated, I couldn’t just leave him to die-” His words cut off sharply as he is kicked by the pede of Sparklock. _

_ “Oh, Yes you could have! But you’re weak! A disgusting Autobot sympathizer!” Sparkbolts berates him.  _

_ “Why would you do this to us?” The Silver mech behind Sparklock questions, voice filled with confused hurt and anger. _

_ “Electrobolt...no, I would never betray you...either of you..” He tries off, lost for words. He never wanted to hurt his siblings as he has now, but he could not live with himself knowing he could have saved the civilian from being offlined. _

_ “But, Voltbreaker, you did.” Sparklock says, voice uncharacteristically low and even, no comical inflections rearing their head as they normally would. _

_ Sparklock suddenly lunges, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with his body weight. He struggles, before vents hitch as his servos are grabbed and pinned above his head by Electrobolt. His optics flicker to his youngest sibling, confusion rising in his processor before his attention is drawn back to Sparklock.  _

_ “You don’t deserve to wear our emblom.” Sparklock hisses out through his denta, the red light of both Sparklocks and Electrobolts optics give an eerie illumination that shines down on him like a spotlight.  _

_ Sparklock raising a servo again, this time it transformers into Sparklocks favorite concealable weapon, a large spear-like blade. He tenses as he feels the tip press into the upper left of his chassis, his own red optics widening as he realizes what Sparklock is about to do. He tries to still himself, press himself as deep as he could into the soil but it only caused him to pinch his wings which has a hiss leaving him. _

_ “N-no, Sparklock, please! I would never betray the Decepticons!” He cries, static lacing his voice before it breaks off into a pained, crackling scream. _

_ His vision whites out, the searing pain of sustaining an injury so close to his sparkhousing causing his vents to stutter and his frame to quake. As his optics online, the weight and pressure is gone. Sparklock and Electrobolt both stand over him, Sparklock looking disgusted at his blade which drips energon and Electrobolt looking unsatisfied. Its electrobolt he kneels by him, his own vision blurring as optical fluid gathers.  _

_ “Your badge is cut...but I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson about what happens when you betray the Decepticons..” Electrobolt hums out, a voice which holds the sparkling-like innocence now twisted as a plot forms.  _

_ He then grins, wings twitching in amusement before he grabs a hold of him. Sharp servos digging into the plating of his arm as he is roughly turned onto his front. He tries to get away, to transform and fly away, but he is pinned again. This time by a weight on the small of his backstrut. Sparklock pede’s walk around him, his helm being forced to tilt up as Sparklock grabs his chin as he kneels in front of him.  _

_ “You did this to yourself, traitor. Destroyed our trust, Broke our trine, and Betrayed what we all believed in and fought for.” Sparkbolt says, optics staring into his own before he felt the sharp servos of Electrobolt on his wings.  _

_ Horror dawns on him too late before the agonizing pain of something ripping at his wings. He screams until there's a painful shock in his throat and his voice dissolves into broken static. Optical fluid runs down his cheeks, dripping into the soil below. Only when his helm is released by a retreating Sparklock down his helm slam into the ground to try and muffle his cries. The weight lifts but it is not a relief, error messages pinging in his hub as he tries to move his wings. _

_ “B-brothers...plea-” He tries to comm them through his internal link with them but he’s roughly kicked, a choked noise leaving him. _

_ “My brother died cycles ago, traitor.” Sparklock hisses, before the sound of transformation is heard and echoed. _

_ As the blasters sound and his frame is rocked by the gust of wind they left behind, his optics offline and he lays there, hoping to be found but also hoping to join the well of sparks. _

* * *

“Why did I agree to come along again?” Ratchet’s voice was gruff, annoyed as he descended down into the hall of the ship.

“Because I asked you too.” Drift pipes up behind him, giving a warm smile then a chuckle as Ratchet rolls his optics at the other. “And if I recall, because you didn’t trust Rodimus to not get himself or anyone else hurt.” He whispers the last bit into Ratchet’s audial, causing the older mech to snort a laugh which he covered up by clearing his vents.

Ahead of them is Minimus Ambus, the green and white mech moving easily around the cramped spaces. He follows behind a Rodimus, who- though very nimble at times- has some form of difficulty using the jugging out metal walls to climb down deeper into the hall. His red optics scan the area, recalling easily where he had been earlier with Megatron before chaos broke out. He looks above himself, spotting Rung who he had forgotten has joined them. 

“This is a rather large search party if we are just looking for information.” Minimus inquires to Rodimus, looking down at the prime. 

“Well, At first it was just going to be me and Drift,” He pauses and its enough time for Minimus to correct him. 

“Drift and I, not me and Drift, Rodimus.” 

“Whatever- It was just going to be us two, but then he said we should bring Magnus, but he would be too big so we decided to ask you. Then Drift invited Ratchet and I decided we needed another small mech. Swerve is too panicky for this and Tailgate can’t go anywhere without Cyclonus tagging along and Rewind was a no-go, so Rung was my last choice.” He says, not even seeming phased he just insulted Rung.

Rung, for his part, was finding it fairly easy to maneuver through the spaces. He only slightly raised his eyebrows at Rodimus long-winded explanation, not at all surprised he was the last pick. He exchanges a look with Minimus, finding it somewhat amusing yet he could tell MInimus did not find it the least bit funny.

“Well, I am just happy to be able to help.” Rung says, voice ever soft and non judgmental.

As they descended the hall grew darker, the metal around them creaking with the weight of their bodies. A thick uneasiness settled around them, Drift who had been talking in hushed tones with Ratchet had fallen silent and even Rodimus became tense with dread. The walls they climbed down became slick, the heavy scent of rancid energon permeated their systems and had their tanks churning. As they neared the bottom of the hall, it opened up into a room. Berths tipped over and computers smashed. Rodimus halted, his spark twisting inside his chassis as the room screamed wrongness. 

Minimus moved past him, unphased or hiding his distress well, Rodimus couldn’t tell. The room was not on its side and somehow stayed the right way up, even if some of the ceiling had fallen in and the walls seemed half crumbled. Minimus walked further in, Rodimus staying in the entrance a moment longer before Ratchet and Drift passed him as well. Drift set a comforting servo on his shoulder, giving a firm squeeze before following after Ratchet. Rodimus stayed though, in the once doorway and surveyed the room. The smell was strongest here and he had to try to keep from purging his tanks. 

“This room is..” He startles as Rung speaks next to him, the orange mech standing by him and looking as distraught as he felt.

“Bad vibes..” Rodimus says, looking away from the mech next to him.

He then takes a deep ventilation in, making a face at the smell before forcing himself into the room. He walks towards were Minimus stands, looking at the screen before peering down as Minimus servos type in a series of codes. 

“I didn’t know you could hack.” He says in disbelief, watching Minimus easily get access into the computer.

“I can’t. It wasn’t locked, like whoever this belonged too didn’t care who saw what they were doing..” He says thoughtful, frowning some in his own form of unease.

Rung stays in the deformed doorway, optics fleeting around the room. It was not just bad vibes as Rodimus had said, but a bad presence he could sense. He didn’t know how, but he felt an EM field radiating from all around them, a dark one that had cruel intent. He could not tell if it was what remained of the crew collected in a final burst of energy that was trapped in the room or if something still lived and was lingering close by.

Drift moved next to Rodimus, “I didn’t sense it at first but..something is off with this entire room..or maybe even ship. Like...evil lived or lives here.” He says, voice low. 

Rodimus looks over, frowning. Maybe it wasn’t the smell then, that made his tanks cramp and his spark twist uncomfortably in alarm. He nods, agreeing with Drift before snapping his helm to the screen as a voice comes over the speakers. He watches with wide optics as an optic on a cable dangles from the ceiling in the recording, the voice disjointed and sounding far off. 

_ “Cycle log 284. Zaelot Exodus provides a divine miracle. The vile of innermost energon we had collected from our God has successfully merged with the newspark we found on hotspot delta. The color of the newspark, which had been a soft green, now is colored a beautiful, divine gold,”  _ The feed cuts to the spherical pod, the soft yellow glow from within indicated the newspark.  _ “We shall have our prophet within the next few cycles.”  _ The feed then cuts out, exiting from the video and going back to a list. 

“Innermost energon from a God?” Rodimus asks out loud, “How did they-” He’s cut off by Ratchet. 

“Probably a cult that worships their leader like a God.” He says, moving over to the spherical pod and peering inside. 

Rung joins them, standing behind Minimus before reaching around him to point at another video log. “There, click that one.” He says, voice hushed in attentive focus.

Minimus easily scrolls down to the log, before stopping. He pulls a datapad from his subspace and easily syncs it up with the computer, beginning a transfer of information stored on the computer to the datapad. He then confirms the loading and watching of the log, resting his servos off the keyboard and optics flickering around the screen.

_ “Cycle 2,674, Zaelot Exodus provides update yet again. The prophet, which has now been named Delirium, seems to only crave the innermost energon from mechs still living. This provides a problem as now I am the only one still functioning. No more crew wander my halls and Delirium grows hungry and restless.”  _ It cuts to a clip of the small femme, colored black with delicate gold lines along her frame, desmembering a still functioning blue and yellow mech, who slowly begins to grey.  _ “However, this proves not an issue, for now I no longer have to focus on offlining them once they have used up their purpose. Therein lies the fact I am the only one left with living innermost energon.”  _ The screen flickers back to the floating optic.  _ “Though, I may have found a substitute. Dark Energon seems to quell her hunger yet she still attacks, as if it is more the action of feeding then what she is being fed. And so, I have come to feed her by leaking Dark Energon from my own lines, as I was once equipped to carry the substance across the galaxies and have since deemed useless.”  _ The optic seems to darken with what can only be described as anger before it lightens.  _ “I am grateful my true God has given me purpose again by raising his sparkling.”  _ The clip cuts off all together, returning to the list of video logs once more.

“Well...that didn’t answer who his God is but now we know why she attacks...kind of.” Rodimus proclaims, clapping his servos together. 

“This seems like all the information we need, are they finished downloading yet? I now want to get out of here.” Drift says, looking disturbed and anxious. 

Minimus nods, unsyncing his datapad and placing it back into his subspace. “Yes, they're done.” He then closes off the computer, staring at the now black screen. 

A red glare flickers in the top right corner and the five mechs turn suddenly, catching the retreating cable lines into a broken part of the ceiling. Ratchet is the one to vent heavily first, grumbling about leaving already before whatever the pit that was decides it doesn’t want them to leave. The medic stays next to the door, allowing Rodimus, Rung and Minimus before him before being ushered into the hall by Drift. 

The ascent, which should have eased their nerves as they went up, only seemed to heighten them. Drift kept his optics moving around the hall, alert and ready to fight if need be. Rung as well kept his optics moving, though more subtly then Drift, in hopes of catching something before it knew he was looking at it. Minimus kept his focus above him, watching Rodimus or just past Rodimus. Rodimus was hurriedly trying to climb, his spark telling him to just go, to leave and begging to never come back, yet something deep in his processor knew they would all be coming back sooner rather than later.


End file.
